After Ascending and other shorts
by arabellaesque
Summary: Bree was a determined halfling in life, who had no second thoughts about killing to get what she wanted, nor any doubts upon taking her dead sire's throne. But not everything was left behind easily, as she would find out. Snippets from her travels.
1. After Ascending

Several years had passed since she ascended; her thirst for power only slightly quenched as she took the throne of her dead sire, moulding the portfolio of murder into her own style. She delighted in dealing with death, pushing her threshold of acceptable interference as far as she could and angering Cyric, amongst others, with her determination.

But they didn't matter. She knew Ao was keeping an eye on her... she'd come to the planes as an unknown entity in many respects. The quiet, diminutive fighter, known for being selfish and quick to anger, who would never stay her blade. That's what they'd expected. The gods had been foolish, indeed, to underestimate her drive -- but now she was in her rightful place, and the tortured screams of those who had fallen victim to the purpose of her office echoed around her part of the abyss. Even Cespenar seemed to shrink away as she passed.

The solar still visited, but the occurrences were becoming few and far between. She didn't hide her distaste for Bree's actions, but was committed to at least attempting to offer guidance and support -- both of which were declined by the new goddess who preferred to learn for herself. And learn she did.

But despite the enjoyment she found in her new role, her thoughts would still drift back to her former companions. She watched as Edwin returned to Thay, involving himself in his homeland politics as he deftly avoided assassination. Forging a friendship with the new Goddess of Murder did have its perks, after all... Korgan led a band of likeminded individuals deep into Drow territory -- she allowed the dark-skinned elves to catch many of the paladins by surprise, but didn't extend her protection to her former dwarven companion. She knew he'd have taken offence to it, and when he fell, she gave him the chance to serve her in his afterlife. He accepted.

She'd never seen eye to eye with Viconia and had no interest in what the cleric did after they parted ways, but knew that Shar still offered her protection to her faithful. Bree had to admit she felt a degree of disappointment in this... had the drow been left alone and unprotected on the surface she would have become easy prey for the Goddess of Murder's minions. As it was, Bree had no wish to anger another powerful deity, and she was sure that Viconia would incur her own downfall at some point. Bree had time to wait -- and then she could offer her former comrade the chance of a place in the abyss, or an eternity serving her.

How the Drow would love to serve the halfling goddess.

Sarevok roamed the lands, as close to a Chosen as she'd ever allow. He was an excellent fighter, and had hand picked men to work with him of such a high calibre that their mere presence was feared. They stalked the lands, converting the unbelievers with threats and intimidation -- the only other option was death. Bree had grown in power due to their work, her followers rising in numbers sharply. She was adored out of fear and desperation.

Then there were her final two companions... Montaron and Xzar. The necromancer had suffered an 'accident' only months after her ascension, freeing her former lover from his duty to protect the Zhent. Sarevok had approached him, offering him a chance to fight in his band... but he had declined. Bree had shrieked as she watched from her throne, using her newly found divine powers to raze her surroundings. It had taken days to rebuild the domain, and she'd watched Montaron as he set off into the wilderness alone, surprised by his subdued manner.

Then she'd watched him weep as he sat alone, and call out her name. She felt revulsion and disgust... but the part of her that still remembered what it meant to be mortal felt pity. More than pity... it felt guilt.

For months before their travels ended, she'd allowed him to lay with her, ensuring Xzar was kept in line so she could use them both for her own means. She'd felt something for the warrior but suspected his actions were nothing more than a way of satisfying his own needs. When she'd ascended, he'd turned and walked away, not looking back. But she'd freed him from his obligations -- given him a chance to serve her and attain glory... and he'd refused.

She promised she'd never look down to him again and with every day that passed she lost more of her mortal memories. Her feelings and emotions were consumed slowly, but a lingering part remained. The reminder of what she'd once felt for him -- what she'd hoped, what she'd yearned for despite the futility. What she'd never expected him to be able to provide. But deep down, he had cared -- why he had, didn't matter; the fact that he had, even just slightly, was enough to play on her mind, distracting her from the complex web of intrigue and lies she became involved in with her power.

And so she had no choice but to act. Shrouded in robes, she visited Faerun, walking its lands once more even though she knew Ao would disapprove when he found out. She knew where he'd be and she walked there with a single minded purpose, approaching the meadow quietly and looking over to the river where he sat.

Her heart froze. In his arms was another; a halfling girl, giggling and laughing as he spoke. He turned to look down at his companion and his eyes were lit with something she'd never seen before -- he was happy. His cruelty and harshness had waned in the wake of her departure from his side, in the aftermath of Xzar's death and his freedom from the Zhentarim under her divine protection. He'd returned to Lurien, found his kin... he'd settled with someone else and forgotten his past.

Bree's eyes closed as a strange sensation came over them. They were stinging, they felt moist. With just one word she returned to her plane, returned to her throne and sat for a long time, ignoring Cespenar's worried enquiries. Then, at length, she stood and moved to her mirror, using it to gaze down on Sarevok and his men. They were to the east of Calimport, travelling with the merriment they displayed after putting unbelievers to death. She reached out to him, communing silently with her sibling, relaying her orders to him. His expression became grim, and she saw him nod before he turned to his men, informing them of their next destination.

It would take them weeks to get there, but she knew they'd travel as hard as they could to achieve her desire. In a month she would watch as her former lover was left feeling as empty and alone as she was now; Sarevok would ensure his new wife accepted Bree as her own goddess before he killed her, and the girl would come to serve for eternity, paying for her mistake. As for Montaron... Bree had time to think of a fate for him. What she had planned was enough... for now.


	2. First Love

"Are we all ready? After three, then -- one, two- Hey!"

Bree threw a punch at the halfling to her right, causing him to spill most of the drink that he'd raised pre-emptively to his lips. He instantly slammed the tankard down onto the table, throwing her a venomous glare that spoke volumes.

"Ye'd best be more careful, wench!" he snapped. "Yer no' worth the spillin' o' perfectly good ale!"

Bree held his gaze, her own frosty glower enough to counter his attempt at intimidating her. He ended up laughing heartily, draining the rest of his drink before pushing himself up from his seat and away from the table. "I'll be gettin' another round, then," he said, his voice slightly slurred as he staggered off towards the bar. She watched him go keenly; her eyes taking in his muscled body -- well toned for a fellow halfling, and stronger than most of her kin. His face was scarred, but handsome enough for her, his dark, mysterious eyes sending a thrill down her spine whenever she let her control slip in her intoxicated state. A slight groan from her left was enough to draw her attention back to her more immediate surroundings.

"Be feeling most ill, I am," moaned the other girl weakly. The youngest of the three hin, Alora had proven unable to keep up with Bree and Montaron's regular drinking competitions, usually passing out as they continued with their revelry well into the early hours despite their other companions distaste the next morning. Bree rolled her eyes, snatching up the drink that the young thief had abandoned, draining it in one go and wiping her mouth with her sleeve when she was done. The night was still young, and she needed all the help she could get if she were to carry out her most daring plan yet.

"Are ye needin' a hand te bed?" she asked gruffly, wondering if it would be better to get rid of their other companion before she was unable to move for herself. Alora shook her head weakly to Bree's disappointment.

"Happy here, I am," came the reply in a sing-song voice. "Spinning fast, it is." Alora's head fell onto her arms and she let out a loud snore. Bree sniggered quietly, wiping the humour from her face as Montaron returned, and making sure her more familiar frown was back in place. He gave her a careful look as he sat back into his seat.

"'Bout time," she growled at him. "I'd just about sobered up, it took ye so long."

"If'n I be so useless at fetchin' yer drink, ye'd be advised to get it yerself next time," he retorted with a snort. Now she let herself smile widely to him, revelling in the fact that he returned the expression. This time there was no countdown -- at almost the same second, both the halflings raised their cups to their lips, drinking deeply and quickly. Bree's tankard slammed down on the table first, narrowly beating Montaron's, and the combined noise of both caused Alora to jump out of her doze in surprise.

"Damn and blast it," muttered Montaron fiercely. "I'll no be outdrunk by a _girl_!" He snatched up the drink he'd got for Alora, quickly polishing it off as well as Bree watched, swaying slightly in her seat. She was grinning madly at him, watching as he tried desperately to prove his manliness -- determined to better her in every respect. He thumped the cup down triumphantly, a smug look on his face as he looked over at her.

"Well done, _Monty_," she sneered. He immediately lashed out at her, narrowly missing her face at the last second; something flashed across his face -- a hint of guilt or shock, perhaps? She grew in confidence.

"Ye'll think twice about callin' me that," he said darkly, maintaining his fierce glare. Bree sniggered quietly, ignoring Alora as she mumbled incoherently. Slowly she moved around the table slightly while Montaron watched her with suspicion; but he made no move to keep at a distance.

"Surely the great an' magnificent Montaron didn't just _miss_?" she taunted, causing him to grumble, almost abashedly. "But if he _didn't_, he must have avoided me deliberately!"

The male halfling glared dangerously at her, his dark eyes flashing with anger. She knew she was pushing him, but she didn't care -- for too long they'd played these games, and tonight she'd get what she wanted, no matter how much alcohol it ended up taking. She continued her advance until she was almost pressing against him and he'd looked away uncomfortably, muttering curses softly to himself. The time had come -- she would grab it -- literally -- with both hands.

She was about to reach out, about to claim her prize, when Alora lifted her head from her slumped position, looking over to them curiously. "Be feelin' terrible, I am," she said, reminding them of her general feeling of malaise. Bree tried to ignore her, wishing she'd dragged the younger girl to her bed earlier, despite the girls wishes, and got her out of the way. She had needed her there initially; needed to know that it wasn't her he was interested in. The contempt he'd shown for his fellow thief had been somewhat comforting, but it had proven to be too little. Bree had to prove to herself that she could get what she wanted.

But she wasn't to get it that night. With a mighty groan, Alora violently vomited over the table, spraying her companions with spittle as they leapt back in disgust. The young girl moaned in pain and dismay, almost sobbing in distress as Bree swore loudly, reaching out to grab her and forcibly drag her away from the common room, leaving Montaron to deal with the angry bartender -- she knew he'd be able to sort it out.

Her plans would have to wait for another night.


	3. Sisterly Love

They'd grown up in Candlekeep together; the popular human girl, and her halfling 'friend'. Bree wasn't stupid enough to think that people liked her just because Imoen put up with her -- with the lack of any other hin ever visiting the library fortress, Bree had slowly but surely accepted the fact that compared to her 'friend' she'd be generally ignored and spurned. Unless, of course, they happened to need her skills for anything...

But even that wasn't very often. The few young people that spent any time at the settlement would happily play with the mischievous and happy-go-lucky Imoen; Bree was excluded at every opportunity. Gorion's other foster child insisted that she thought the halfling preferred to be on her own, but Bree knew Imoen was just making excuses -- it was all that the humans seemed capable of doing.

When their 'father' had died, Imoen had wandered along and found Bree rummaging through his corpse. They'd stuck together after that -- Imoen refusing to leave Bree alone, despite the little halfling's declarations and decision to accompany Montaron and Xzar, ignoring Gorion's final request for her to seek out his apparent friends. The last thing she needed was more people shunning her for what she was, and her initial delight at finding one of her own kind in the rough and swarthy roguish fighter was enough for her to overlook his eccentric companion.

Then, ultimately, Bree'd began to enjoy having her adopted sister tagging along -- forcing her to accept their way of doing things, threatening to leave her alone in the wilderness if she didn't comply. The addition of several more like-minded souls to their group had meant that Imoen ended up a much quieter and reclusive girl, which suited the halfling perfectly. Yet, still the human wouldn't leave. _How does it feel now,_ Bree had thought on occasion, _to realise that _you _are the outsider, and no one wants to be with _you

If it hadn't been for the promise of power that Irenicus used to lure Bree into finding him, she'd probably have left Imoen to her fate with a sigh of relief. But when they arrived at Spellhold and were eventually reunited with the young human at the cost of Bree's soul, the halfling discovered a rather nasty surprise.

"So... yer a Bhaalspawn too, then?" Bree frowned slightly as Imoen nodded sadly.

"He said it was locked so far inside me... my cheerfulness and innocence hid the taint really well," she said miserably. Bree snorted in contempt.

"Ye don't sound too happy about it all."

Imoen looked aghast. "I... I just want to be normal! I'm not like Sarevok -- I don't want this taint, I'm not interested in what I _could_ have! All I want... all I want is my soul back." Tears were running down her face, and Bree felt a moment of pity -- the normally confident and charming Imoen, reduced to a wreck by one man's insatiable lust for power. The halfling reached out, patting the human girl on the arm comfortingly -- she had an idea.

"There, there," she said softly. "Ye know I'll help ye however I can, don't you?" Imoen nodded between sniffs. "And I can't stand te see ye so down about it all," Bree continued. "So we'll have to do somethin' quick, and make sure yer freed from this misery."

Imoen smiled weakly. "We need to get out of her first," she pointed out, sighing heavily as she looked around at the walls of the asylum. "We don't know where Bodhi has gone, though if you faced her in Athkatla before, there's a good chance she'll go back there perhaps."

"Oh, there is that," nodded Bree in agreement, her hand quietly moving underneath her cloak and towards her belt. "But I was thinkin', it be cruel te make ye wait all that time -- and even when ye get yer soul back, ye'll still be a child o' Bhaal, won't ye?"

The human frowned slightly. "I suppose so," she relented. "But we'll help each other through it, won't we? Like we helped each other back in Candlekeep."

Bree cocked an eyebrow. "I don't remember ye ever really _helpin'_ me," she said carefully. "Ye helped me keep away from yer other friends, sure enough, or helped me to realise that no matter what, I'd never be as much fun as the other kids."

Imoen's mouth fell open. "Bree! You know it wasn't like that! You'd demand that we ignored any of the visitors' children, and if I didn't you'd go off and sulk, no matter how hard I tried to get you to come with me and see how much they'd play with us!"

Bree snorted. "No, Imoen, but ye can think that be true if it gives ye some small comfort. As for yer other issues... I'll offer ye some final comfort now, so ye needn't be bothered about yer heritage any more."

Swiftly, the halfling's shortsword flashed from under her cloak, easily pushing through Imoen's tunic and delving deep into her chest. "Ye'll thank me, one day," she muttered, a cruel smile playing on her lips as Imoen's shocked face registered what had happened. "That is, if yer scattered remains survive well enough to have any kind o' afterlife existence..."

She pulled her sword back out, satisfied she'd found the heart as the thief crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming around her. Bree heard the approach of soft footsteps, and casually wiped her sword clean as Montaron came to stand by her side, impassively staring down at the human's prone body.

"Ye be havin' had an argument then?" he asked.

Bree sneered. "Not exactly... let's just say, it was time te get rid o' some competition."

Montaron's eyebrow rose. "She was one?" he asked disbelievingly.

"_Was_, aye," chuckled Bree, causing him to look back at the slowly dissolving corpse with some surprise. "'Tis always the quiet ones ye hafta watch, lest they stab ye in the back," she said softly, watching the golden dust swirl around before it finally disappeared, leaving nothing but a small pool of blood and some tattered clothes.

Montaron grinned evilly. "Best that ye got her first then, eh?"


	4. A Bid for Freedom

The first thing Bree thought when Imoen unlocked her cage, was that whoever had spiked her drink back at the Blade and Stars would be a dead man walking if she ever caught up with them. The human girl, her companion since their foster father's death, was bordering hysterical, mumbling incoherently while Bree explored the dungeon, finding the keys to free their companions. Thankfully, most of them seemed unscathed -- Montaron and Xzar were just annoyed and Edwin was in a bad mood due to the awful hospitality shown by their captor. Shar-teel and Kagain were absent, probably in some other cell someplace, but Bree wasn't too bothered. The most important thing was that she was free and that she would escape. 

They were armourless and weaponless as they wandered down the corridors, Montaron keeping a careful eye out for traps since Imoen was being nothing more than a wide-eyed nuisance. The man who had held them as his prisoners had proven to be quite, quite mad in Bree's eyes, and she didn't trust his abode any more than she'd believed Tethtoril when he said he'd missed her on her return to Candlekeep.

Here and there they located the odd salvageable piece of equipment, fashioning bits and pieces for armour and using anything they could get their hands on as weapons. The mage's spellbooks were found on a magnificent teak desk, much to Edwin and Xzar's joy -- Imoen backed away, almost in fear, when Bree held out her book, and the halfling just rolled her eyes, tossing it in her pack for later.

Before long they stumbled into a large hall full of glass jars. Several humanoid figures seemed to be floating inside them. Imoen shrieked, babbling about seeing them before and whining about knives and strange implements. Eventually Bree had enough.

She walked up to Imoen and rose up onto her tiptoes, looking straight at the thief. Imoen's glazed eyes didn't seem to register her at all. "Quit yer whining," Bree hissed. "We're free now."

"Are we?" asked Imoen, her voice high and wavering. "Horrible, horrible things surround us and my head still hurts like crazy. I want to know what he did to me. I remem-"

Bree raised her hand and slapped the girl as hard as she could across the cheek. Imoen staggered slightly, her eyes slowly registering what had happened with shock and anger. "Ye be feelin' better now, aye?" the halfling asked, turning around and walking off without waiting for a reply, much to Edwin's amusement.

----------

Bree's mind went over their capture as they progressed; none of the companions she'd found so far, except Imoen, had been allowed out from their cage, and whatever Imoen had experienced was proving hard to determine in her emotional frenzy. The mage, Irenicus he'd called himself, had visited her on more than one occasion, though -- using her for experiments of some nature but never revealing his true intent. She scowled darkly as she stalked along, her teeth clenched in annoyance. He'd pay for that.

Xzar's delight in having his precious spellbook back was hastened when they discovered a store seemingly full of spell components. Both he and Edwin filled pockets and pouches and any other available container in their possession before they were persuaded to leave. The next door they opened led into an immense library, and mephits bore down on them, backed up by goblins. The party prevailed, due to a mixture of ability and sheer temper -- none of them were particularly happy about their predicament, and none of them wished to see their end there. They were moving off as Xzar used most of his newly acquired components, re-animating the recently killed goblins and building the beginnings of his latest undead army. Bree merely rolled her eyes.

The group and their undead goblin soldiers carried on until they reached what appeared to be a large forge where several duergar were working. As the dark dwarves caught sight of the escapees they rushed to attack, announcing that their master would be none too pleased if they got away. Xzar's goblin army proved to be an immense aid in the battle, providing much distraction which allowed the spellcasters to work their magic from a distance while Bree and Montaron waded into the melee.

When the last of their enemies had fallen, Bree rummaged around, pulling out better quality weapons and armour for the group, and a brief respite was taken for everyone to re-equip. Imoen was strangely quiet; she murmured something about the library they'd passed through, Candlekeep, and duergars, then pointed to a dark corner of the room and covered her mouth with a hand. Montaron sauntered over to the strange shape lying on the floor to see what was bothering her and frowned.

"It be Kagain," he said quietly, leaning down and pulling something from the dwarf's grasp.

Bree paused the fastening of her new armour's straps to look up. "Oh," she said eventually, quite emotionlessly, finishing off her dressing and grabbing her sword. "Better get movin' then, before what got him gets us."

"I think we got what got him," noted Montaron with a sly smile. She grinned back to him and kicked Xzar as she passed, her way of making the necromancer cease his whining about the decimation of his troops.

----------

The room could be described as nice, Bree supposed, but it was a bit floral and... well girly, really. Pretty rugs, pleasant paintings and a nice large bed with silken covers. Lots of traps too, judging by how fast Montaron was working, but a home to a veritable amount of treasure which was carefully stored in the bags they'd managed to salvage. A small lamp sat on a table, glinting slightly in the torchlight. Bree watched as Edwin examined it.

"It seems to be a pretty standard one," he muttered thoughtfully, examining a rune on its side. "However, I do believe it _is_ being used to home a creature; a genie, perhaps. (Yes, a genie -- I am sure of it.)"

"Give it a rub, then," she said with a lewd grin as he gave her a haughty look in return. He rummaged through his pockets, seemingly searching for a spare piece of cloth and Bree rolled her eyes. She marched up to him and grabbed a bit of his robes. He shrieked in outrage, but she managed to give the side of the lamp a quick polish and, sure enough, a genie appeared.

He spoke of his imprisonment and offered to give them what was rightfully theirs if they found his flask. Bree tried threatening him with violence, but was dismayed to note that he was right when he said he couldn't be harmed. Grudgingly she agreed to offer assistance, asking Montaron if he'd come across anything like that. The thief shook his head sullenly, slinking off to the only other exit, then quickly called Bree over.

She immediately saw what he'd spotted and wandered out toward them. Three nymphs stood forlornly in a fake forest, immediately begging for help when they noticed her approaching. She smiled pleasantly, offering her deepest sympathies for their plight and nodding empathetically with them as they spoke. She mentioned the genie and his imprisonment, and could hardly believe it when they said they had what he wanted.

"Can ye give it te me, then?" she asked.

"Find our acorns," pleaded one of the nymphs, "and we will give you the flask! They must be taken to the Windspear Hills for us to escape here!"

Bree was about to curse when she felt something being pushed into her hands. Montaron winked at her as he withdrew once more, leaving her with the nuts he'd taken from Kagain's corpse, causing the nymphs to squeal in delight and provide the flask. Bree muttered her thanks, wandering back through to the genie to perform the exchange, her eyes flashing with delight as Sarevok's Sword of Chaos lay before her upon his vanishing. She looked back down at the acorns in her hand, then slowly wandered over to the fire burning in the hearth. Wordlessly, she threw them into the flames, ignoring the pained screams that drifted in from the false wood outside and glaring at Imoen when she gasped in surprise.

Swiftly, they moved on.

----------

"She wasn't dead when we got here," said Imoen quietly. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but to Bree's relief she hadn't flipped out this time. "We... we killed her." Edwin had decided to handle the mephit portals by dealing out massive damage from several fireballs. The shouts they'd heard as they initially opened the door hadn't deterred Bree from signalling him to go ahead; even if they _had_ clearly been calling the halfling's name.

"Aye well, nothin' we can be doin' fer her now," noted Montaron as he looked down at Shar-teel's remains. They'd barely been able to recognise her charred body, only acknowledging who it was when Imoen rushed over, insisting that it was their fallen comrade. Bree nodded her agreement with his words.

"She was annoyin' anyway," the halfling said simply, wandering off to rummage through the chests in the room. Imoen seemed to take offence at this.

"Bree! How can you say that! She... she fought with you against Sarevok, and stood by you loyally and... and that's all you have to say?"

Bree paused in her looting for a second then nodded thoughtfully. "Aye," she concluded.

"Is that all you're going to think if... if I die?"

The halfling shook her head. "Nah, I'll be thinkin' 'ah, more riches te go round fewer people'," she explained, heading off towards the next door.

----------

More duergar and goblins were fought off, as well as an escaped clone and a few assassins that had appeared from... well, somewhere. Eventually they could smell fresh air over the mustiness of the corridors and their paces quickened. Something seemed to erupt behind them, an almighty booming noise signalling tremors in the floor, ceiling and walls. The group began to run, seeing the daylight as it appeared in the distance, dodging the pieces of masonry as they began to fall. Bree felt her adrenaline coursing through her veins -- she was blissfully ignorant on how her companions were faring, but satisfied that she was making good speed. The light got closer and closer, the air fresher, and despite the sounds of the collapsing tunnel, she was sure she could hear the sound of voices and combat ahead...

With a smile, she tightened her grip on her sword and picked up her pace even further.


	5. Kin

It was insufferable. It was worse than insufferable -- it was almost enough to incite a murderous rampage, though the crueller at heart would remark that it didn't take much to get Bree into that kind of mood anyway. It was worse than the traipsing they'd undergone through the mines at Nashkel, with the grime and dirt and darkness. It was worse than the smell that had seeped into their rooms when the Red Sheaf's cook had discovered some out of date fish in the pantry, and put it outside directly beneath the windows of their rooms. It was even worse than the time Edwin had got drunk on cheap wine -- he'd not meant to, admittedly, but Bree and Montaron were having too much fun telling him that each glass was a specialist taste from a different part of Faerun, and he'd believed them, attempting to guess at the location. It had taken ages for the locals to put the fire out, and they were now banned from the Nashkel Inn for life.

They'd arrived at the ruins of the Firewine Bridge with the hope of discovering great treasures below. What they'd actually found were kobolds; and lots of them. Edwin had been quick to point out that at least this time they didn't find a pathetic elven enchanter as well, and Bree had reluctantly admitted that he had a point. Montaron has also noted there was little in the way of treasure, and he'd earned himself a kick.

By the time they'd fought their way through, Xzar had composed an army of the creatures. They charged forward when they saw the ogre standing before them in the final chamber, then promptly burst into flames as Edwin's fireball exploded in their midst. The beast died as several dozen flaming kobolds descended upon him, half burning, half suffocating him to death. Bree wondered if there was a more undignified way to go.

Of course, it had been a halfling at the root of it all. One of the hin at the village nearby -- a place called Gullykin -- had been letting the creatures use a passage in her home that led to the catacombs. That way, they'd been able to get up to terrorize the locals, which had apparently sounded like quite good fun to Xzar. Viconia had snidely glanced at Montaron and Bree.

"Another of your kind that have no qualms about self serving. Your race may even rival the drow in that regard, sakphul."

The halfling woman, Jenkal, had only been persuaded not to turn hostile when Bree told the others to sheath their weapons. Imoen had looked bewildered, so she sent the thief outside to scout around for other enemies, getting the annoying human out of the way while the important deal was done. When all was clear, Bree quickly explained her intentions to Jenkal and gladly left with a heavy pouch, weighted with coins. Even Shar-Teel had been impressed by this.

"Again, I'm glad I travel with a woman at the lead. A moron male would have failed to see the potential to profit from the scene, though a bit of blackmail never did anyone any harm!"

Bree nodded, jingling the coins merrily to humour Xzar after the necromancer demanded a song. She only half kept her word to the halfling woman though -- and that part was the bit about accepting all the profits the woman had got from the ogre for allowing them to use her home the way they did. As they made their way to the centre of the village, they met the mayor -- and she was happy enough to tell him what they'd found out, and point out the exact house holding the offending hin.

A bit later, several halflings carrying small pitchforks angrily made their way past them, heading towards the burrow on the outskirts of the settlement. Bree sighed quite contentedly, supping at the soup that had been provided for their newfound hero status. They were quickly encouraged to stay for a three-day feast and she lazily agreed to it, despite the horror on her companion's faces -- well, except Imoen, who looked delighted.

And now it was day two, and she wanted _away_.

She'd grown up away from her kind -- Montaron had been the first of her people she'd ever met, and now she was surrounded by them. And they were not like he and she _at all._ Several declared that they could possibly be far-flung relatives, more announced they'd be friends for life. They wanted to dance, sing... even _hug_ randomly. There was no peace -- children would catch their sleeves, tugging until they were noticed, then act out a scene that she imagined was meant to be similar to their 'rescue' of the town. Older halflings would insist they share a drink with them, then proceed to tell them, in great detail, about their entire lives, including what they'd harvested on various years.

Of course, being that there was Bree and Montaron, the women cooed and announced how good it was to see such young love. He looked positively horrified, but managed to refrain from issuing threats, if only because of Viconia's silence spell on him in order to avoid such incidents. Bree on the other hand, openly dismissed the suggestions... but...

She watched him as he walked by -- more like stalked, actually. He was frowning, as usual, looking for Xzar. The necromancer had gone missing an hour before, but she knew where he was -- the village brewery had also attracted Edwin, Viconia and Shar-Teel to its hallowed walls. She had no idea -- and didn't care -- where Imoen was. She'd opted to stay outside, hoping he'd go past...

He paused in his march, one of his hands reaching up to scratch his other arm absently. The scowl remained in place, and he turned around, spotting her. He strode over to her grimly, his feet stomping heavily on the gravel underfoot. It was hard to believe that normally he was so sly and stealthy...

"..." he said, opening his mouth to speak, but obviously still under the effects of the drow's spell. He screamed silently in obvious frustration. Bree sniggered, then yelped as he kicked her rather viciously on the leg.

"Hey! There's no need fer that!"

His expression seemed to soften -- she was sure it did, but it was hard to tell. A flicker crossed his eyes -- amusement? The glare lessened, a trace of a smile threatened to adorn his mouth... then it was gone, and the sullen look returned. He mouthed some more words.

"He's in the brewery," she answered, deciphering him. He seemed to sigh, almost with resignation; then to her surprise, he moved to stand next to her, leaning against the small wooden fence that circled the village, looking over to the sun as it slowly drifted down towards the horizon.

She studied his profile; for a halfling he had the potential to be handsome indeed. The grime on his face could be scrubbed off, and his matted hair could be a thick mane of dark curls. She'd only seen him smile once or twice; but on the rare occasion that he had, she'd noticed his nose wrinkle, his eyes crease... occasionally the cruelty would even make itself absent. But that aspect didn't bother her in the slightest -- of all the companions, he'd supported her decisions the firmest and not balked at her slightly underhanded ways of doing things. Even Edwin seemed to possess a conscience, deep down, and Viconia objected to anything that Bree did, on the basis of their mutual dislike of each other. Xzar was always in his own world and Shar-Teel was a newcomer to their party -- Imoen... well, Bree wasn't sure why Imoen was still there, considering the thief found it hard to stomach their path.

But Montaron... he understood. He never questioned, never doubted. He was there, loyal, steadfast... attached to that damned mage, but there, nevertheless. And she appreciated it -- for all her faults, for all her selfishness... she was glad.

Slowly she felt her hand rising, heading towards his arm. She had no idea what to do when it got there, or what would happen afterwards, but she didn't bother to fight it, letting her instinct wash over her as his form was almost silhouetted against the fiery orange backdrop of dusk. Just as her fingertips brushed his armour with the faintest of touches he spoke.

"About bloody time! That blasted spell be damned, I'll ha'e the head o' that cleric wench if it be the last thing I do!" Her hand was withdraw swiftly, and he turned to her a wicked smile adorning it -- he seemed not to notice her hasty movement and instead sauntered past her, cocking his head as he approached the steps to the brewery and noticing she hadn't moved.

"Ye comin' or no?"


	6. Disguises

She wondered if she'd ever get _used_ to it. Twice as tall as she'd normally be, she knew it was just an illusion, but it felt so _real_. Her hair fell around her face, the white tresses which had replaced her normal brown curls swishing around. Her fingers were long and slender with beautifully manicured nails, much to Viconia's immediate displeasure. Instead of her clunky old armour, she'd tried on a set of finely crafted drow chainmail and it was now nestled snugly against her womanly curves as if it had been made for her. The reflection in the mirror showed a tall, haughty looking elven woman with skin as dark as ebony and piercing violet eyes. Inside, she still felt like the nimble little halfling she'd been not even half a day before, and she missed it. Well, part of her missed it.

Bree was finding that the longer she spent in this form, the more she was growing... fond of it. It had taken some adjustment to adapt her behaviour, though Adalon's spell had proven to be virtually all-encompassing. Not only was she fluent in the tongue of the dark elves, but her accent and tone had gone from its normally gruff and common sound, to an affected, arrogant voice. She was beginning to like its commanding undertone. She was beginning to like the respect it gave her to a degree -- more than she'd ever had as a halfling, when most people dismissed her easily or assumed she'd be 'cheerful'.

No longer was their own natural drow companion able to literally look down on her -- indeed, she now had a clear two inches over Viconia, slightly more if she drew herself up tall and subtly went onto her tiptoes. And it was enough for her to take full advantage of, mock-sympathising with the priestess on her unfortunate shortness for her kind. It was unfair, really... Viconia was no smaller than most of the inhabitants of Ust Natha, it seemed, and Bree had been fairly tall for a halfling... but knowing she could say what she wanted to the cleric in a sly undertone, and then watch as she silently seethed, was worth it.

Excluding Viconia, Bree's other companions were taking their time to adjust to their new appearance as well. Xzar had shrieked and screamed, insisting that he had developed a plague when he'd caught sight of his own hands, and Adalon had been forced into casting additional spells on him to invoke some degree of sanity. Bree couldn't say she'd noticed much of a difference, except that the necromancer was liable to speak much less now. That in itself was a huge benefit.

Edwin had complained bitterly about having to conceal his robes and cloak, until she pointed out what would happen if his true identity was worked out. With a lot of muffled cursing, he'd changed into more appropriate garb and turned his complaining attentions to the length of his hair and the complexion of his new skin. This had ended abruptly when they arrived at the inn in the drow city; within seconds he had been surrounded by several high priestesses who had escorted him safely upstairs for their pleasure. He had shown no sign of objecting in the slightest.

Korgan had surprised her. After a rather vicious monologue about what he'd do to her if she went ahead with this 'hare-brained' scheme, she'd ignored him and signalled for Adalon to weave her magic. He'd been halfway to her when the spell hit, his axe raised high in the air -- and then he'd stopped, Xzar's hold spell capturing him in plenty of time. By the time it had worn off, something inside him had changed -- completely ignoring Bree, he'd swaggered over to Viconia, making eyes at her all the way before delving in for a quick fumble. Only Adalon's interference had stopped bloodshed at that point.

When Edwin got taken away by the handmaidens, however, he'd quickly reverted back to sulking and stalking around, wondering when his turn would come up. Bree didn't care if it did or not, happily leaving him to linger in the common room in the vain hope that he would catch the eye of a female on her way to the lust chambers.

She smiled softly at her reflection and turned around slowly. Sitting on the edge of her bed was another figure, his eyes quickly fixing themselves to the ground as he diverted his gaze from her. She wouldn't have recognised him for an instant had she not already known his identity, but she did; and it was _knowing_ who he was that ignited the passion that was beginning to burn inside her. His actual physical appearance was, admittedly, doing little to help her mood.

Montaron seemed to notice her predatory glance. Of them all, he'd had the hardest time accepting the idea, though at the time she hadn't been sure why. He'd vocally made his outrage known, but then silently accepted her decision, getting on with things as they fought their way to the city gates and then made their way through the bustling streets to the inn to find their contact. Having been given some time to sort themselves out before having to attend on anyone, Bree had wasted no time in escorting Montaron carefully to her room, not thinking twice about lashing out at a younger girl as she purred enticing words over to the disguised male halfling.

She'd made her way almost instantly to the mirror to get a better idea of her new form, knowing that he'd be watching. It dawned on her as she watched him looking at her hungrily that the problem wasn't about the physical transformation; she wasn't as intelligent as someone like Edwin, but she knew enough to realise that it wasn't her normal halfling body that ensured Montaron came to her bed every night. Rather it was what she was, and what she was _capable_ of. He could recognise power from miles away, which is why she was careful to ensure nothing else even threatened to get powerful while in her -- and more importantly, his -- company. Especially not if it was female.

No, his problem was with attitude -- no more was he able to play himself as the dominant force... not in public anyway. Drow males were very much lesser beings than their female companions, and he had been aware of this when Adalon had discussed the plan. It had obviously not appealed to him, though now, in this room, she was sure she could change his viewpoint somewhat... especially when he raised his eyes to look at her again, the desire clearly shining through. So this was what he generally lusted for, was it? She would have to keep a close eye on his relationship with the cleric... she had no reason to believe there was anything untoward there; she found it hard to believe Viconia would be tempted by him at all, unless... unless she thought there was a chance to get at Bree herself, perhaps...

With a smile she raised her hand, swiftly bringing it across his face and knocking him to the side. Her hand stung from the impact, but it only served to increase her grin. A trickle of blood had escaped from his lips as he slowly sat back up, narrow eyes watching her with caution and wariness. Oh yes... she would enjoy this.


	7. Lady of the Keep

It'd been going on for days.

"If'n ye don't do somethin' te stop all th' caterwaulin', I'll go as mad as th' mage," Montaron warned, stalking into the grandiose dining room and slumping into one of the gilded seats.

"Which one?" Bree asked, smirking as Edwin looked up from his platter only long enough to throw her a very dark glare. Montaron sniggered, his temper momentarily lost. Bree regarded him; he was even more dishevelled than usual, with large dark rings around his eyes.

"Can ye no be sleepin'?" Bree asked slyly. Montaron's kick was aimed at her, but she deftly moved her own legs to avoid it and laughed raucously. He stared at her with obvious poison.

"Can ye sleep yersel' through the racket?" he snapped. "It'll have te be ended, one way or ano'er, if ye expect us te be stayin' here fer any time."

"Ye'll no harm her." Bree scowled her warning. "She needs te be kept in one piece, mind, or we'll lose the right te the lot o' it."

"It's no even worth th' bother," the other halfling noted, sulkily snatching some bread from one of the large porcelain dishes and cramming it into his mouth. "How often de we have te keep comin' back here, anyways?" he mumbled, breadcrumbs spraying from his mouth.

"(Ugh, the manners of these simians!)" Edwin muttered, eyeing Montaron with open disgust. "(Or lack of manners, I should say, since_that_ is the problem...)"

"Where're the others?" Bree asked no one in particular, ignoring the question. The conjurer shrugged disinterestedly, and she looked over to Montaron in the ensuing silence. He raised an eyebrow.

"Ye spoke at _me_?"

"I no be speakin' to anyone else but you or the mage, and the mage knows not!"

Montaron snorted. "Xzar be in his room, studyin' his spells. Has been, all night -- th' wailing an' weepin' has managed te make e'en the most insane o' us go madder."

"I must agree with the unwashed one," Edwin interrupted as he pushed his plate to the side, leaning back in his chair having had his fill from the breakfast spread out on the table before him. "Our rest is important for preparing for the day ahead, and the battles that will inevitably come. How can I perform to the levels you've come to expect if I cannot close my eyes for more than a few minutes at a time before being disturbed by the noise coming from the furthest tower?"

Bree sighed. "Ye've got a point, I'll give ye that." She pondered for a moment, than smiled serenely, pushing her chair back and standing up from the table. "I'll be sortin' it; that, I promise."

---

Viconia's long and slender fingers were drumming on the windowsill at the top of the main stairs. She turned on Bree in an instant when she heard the halfling climbing the stairs, her eyes glinting with anger and her whole stance implying that she was looking to pick a fight.

"Yer not lookin' se good," Bree remarked cheerfully, yet snidely. The drow's eyes widened in furious disbelief.

"Do not irritate me further, _sakphul_," she spat, leaning forward so she could loom over the smaller woman. "You are jealous of Viconia, and it is only as I would expect. But enough... this... this incessantly pathetic wailing must cease if we are to spend another night here, or, Shar hear me; I will personally ensure that your _juluk_ has nothing better to offer you than his sword arm and light fingers. Do you understand me?"

Bree glared at the priestess with open hostility, then pushed her way past without answering. Viconia's taunting laugh followed her, almost as if she'd been maddened by the constant screams. "I promise you,_abbil_... I will have my rest _somehow_."

---

Xzar was, as Montaron had said, sitting in his room and staring at his spellbook. He didn't even seem to hear Bree as she entered, nor acknowledge her presence as she stood before him, a frown on her face.

"Waken up, wizard!" she snapped, causing him to start forward in his chair, dropping his book to the ground. When he noticed her, his hands shot out and grabbed her arms, and his eyes bulged in apparent fear.

"Do you see them?!" he hissed, completely still except for the movement of his lips. "Do they come? They _come_, don't they?! I have heard them! HEARD THEM! But they don't know... they don't know that I am ready!" And then he let go, nimbly springing to his feet and sauntering over to the mirror where he checked his appearance and nodded approvingly to himself. Then, he turned and gave Bree a slightly surprised look.

"Why, hello," he said genially. "You should have told me you'd arrived. Is it time?"

Bree just sighed and rubbed her temple. The mage had only got worse the longer they'd been on the road, and the torture he'd undergone at the hands of Irenicus hadn't helped one bit. It had taken a while, but she was almost used to it now; and he _did_ have his uses, after all.

"It is, aye," she said quietly. "Ye'll need te come wi' me, if that be all right wi' yerself?"

"Of course it is, mummy," the mage replied placidly, bending down to pick up his spellbook and fondly stroking the cover with one of his long-nailed fingers. "Where are we going today? To Evermeet, perhaps? I am running low on quality lobes."

"Perhaps later," she muttered, ushering him out of the room and closing the door behind her. "But first," she continued, gently taking his arm and steering him down the hall, "first, I need ye te do somethin' fer me."

---

That afternoon there were two sets of voices echoing through the passages and corridors of the keep. One was mournful and sad, and one was exuberant and happy. One was female, and one was male.

---

"I need ye te speak te the guards," Bree said abruptly. Korgan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Whyfor?" he asked. "There's no been one te step outta line since I recruited 'em."

She snorted. "I knows that. I be needin' ye te brief them on the_Lady's Condition_."

Korgan grinned wickedly. "Aye, I can be doin' that. I take it we'll be able te sleep tonight, then?"

Bree looked over her shoulder at the tower behind them. They were standing in the courtyard, the full glare of the afternoon sun shining down on them in the warmth of the Amnian summer. When her gaze turned back to Korgan she was smiling.

"Aye. I'd say it'd be a good bet."

---

Edwin Odesseiron, powerful Thayvian mage of astounding intellect and amazing wisdom, was better than this. The Zhentarim wizard was barely capable of remembering the most basic cantrip on an average day, and yet he, a Red Wizard, was coddling him in the makeshift laboratory prepared for them by the irritating halfling girl.

He looked over to Xzar, the other mage combining a few potions docilely, and with a fascinated expression on his face. Edwin snorted; such a waste, in truth. The man was able to show signs of genius at the most unexpected times, but there seemed to be no way of harnessing his rationality, which meant that, despite his occasional bouts of greatness, he was nothing more than a liability. Why he still travelled with them when they had the magic of Edwin Odesseiron at hand, was completely beyond his understanding.

He muttered about the ingratitude shown to him as he continued his work. Their uneducated leader had made her wishes perfectly clear, and with the combined efforts of both the mages, there was no reason why they wouldn't achieve what she'd requested... and potentially a whole lot more.

Edwin smiled, just a little.

---

Bree stalked through the passages of the keep. The haunting shrieks had ceased only a few hours before; no doubt as the girl collapsed in exhaustion, building up her energy for another night of howling. The halfling was half tempted to cancel the food that would go up to her door, though it would make no difference. The girl was barely eating, and her health had deteriorated quite badly. The wizards had to get it right, otherwise they'd lose the holding, and Bree didn't want to give up her castle. Not now she'd taken a fancy to it.

The girl's aunt had been a bit of a problem, too. First she'd disparaged them, openly, as they rescued her from the invading trolls and yuan-ti, and then she'd said she'd it'd be an indignity to continue living there if Bree were to assume the title of Lady of the Keep. The cheek of it! The foolish young girl had _offered_ it to the halfling; it wasn't as if she'd taken it by force! But keeping it... oh, yes. Bree'd do anything to ensure the title remained hers.

So the keep's guards had been dismissed and the Captain had died, murdered by bandits, by all accounts, when he'd been escorting the Lady Delcia Caan from the lands. Unfortunately for the girl, who'd already lost her father to the invasion on her home, her aunt was also killed, and she was left alone, with no family left to be with.

Korgan had managed to amass a new guard, using his old contacts from his adventuring days. A motley bunch, they were, but most of them were loyal enough to the grizzled old dwarf, and the ones who weren't were kept in line to prevent them from getting ideas above their station. And Bree didn't care overly much, as long as they collected the taxes from the locals, and didn't mess with her when it came to handing _all_ of it over.

She pushed open the door leading into the library, checking that Edwin wasn't shirking away from her task and spending even more time secluded away with nothing but a book for company. The mage'd never learn; it was how he'd managed to get himself in trouble _last_ time, spending too much time with books and scrolls and whatnot. Happy to note his conspicuous absence, she turned away and continued her meanderings along the corridors of the De'Arnise Keep.

---

"An' ye gave it te her?"

Edwin snorted. "(Will someone tell me _why_ I continue to deal with this half-brained imbecile?) I visited the tower, yes, and administered the drug directly to the girl. It should only take a day for the addictive effects to come into place, and then she will crave for more, which we will be happy enough to provide of course."

Bree smiled widely. "Edwin, yer a genius."

He allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk, buffing his nails on the hem of his robes without realising it. "It is about time you noticed as such," he said, staying as aloof as he could manage. "I have also refined the potion so that it is easily administered by lacing food with it. This should ensure that the girl keeps eating, and does not starve herself to death in her... current state."

Bree grinned wickedly and clapped him on the back as she turned away. "Perfect... jus' perfect..."

---

"And, the Lady De'Arnise... Nalia? She will be joining us today?"

The clerk from the Amnian government had introduced himself as Wilbur, a civil servant from Athkatla. He currently looked very uncomfortable as he sat, perched on the edge of the chair in the great hall, facing Bree as she sat opposite him. She was flanked by Korgan and Montaron, both scowling darkly at him, both with their weapons on obvious show.

Slightly behind, at a small table, sat Edwin and Xzar, looking resplended in their robes, dusty tomes and large spellbooks strewn before them as they watched the proceedings from the corner of their eyes.

But the clerk's eye was, more often than not, flickering to the shadows at the far reaches of the room, where the drow priestess, Viconia, lounged enticingly, her red eyes never moving from the visitor's body in a display of barely concealed appraisal.

"She won't, no," Bree said, sympathy and sorrow exuding from her tone. "She's feelin' a bit under the weather, ye know?"

"I... I s-see." The young man began tugging at the collar of his tunic, and sweat was beginning to show clearly on his forehead. Bree continued to smile at him; predatory, sweetly.

"I w-will have to see her, of c-course, you unders-stand. The alleg-gations that have been levied against yourselves a-are far too serious for us to i-ignore. Especially when they come from someone s-so senior..."

"Aye, we thought ye might," the halfling answered, jumping down from her seat and motioning for Wilbur to follow her as she moved out to the corridor. "Ye'll have te understand, though," she continued conversationally, "that the grief over her father dyin' as he did, an' the shock o' losing her Aunt so soon after made her very vulnerable and weak."

The man nodded, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief as they walked. Montaron and Korgan walked at his side, matching his pace, while Viconia strutted along behind them.

They climbed one set of stairs, and went down one dimly lit corridor to the end. Then, Bree knocked gently on the door, opening it when a small voice called out for her to enter. A young girl leapt to her feet as they entered, offering a bobbing curtsey to Bree and moving away from the chair beside the large four poster bed.

"How is she?" the halfling asked. She saw the clerk looking over to the bed, where Nalia De'Arnise lay, her eyes closed, a peaceful expression on her face.

"Resting, ma'am," the serving girl said. "She managed to have her lunch, and then said she felt quite tired so I got some of my sewing done while she slept."

Bree nodded. "Ye can leave fer now," she said, waving to the door. "I think Master Odesseiron needs yer... attention."

The girl nodded, flushing as she curtsied once more, and then dashed from the room. Bree turned to face the clerk, smiling up at him once again.

"Would ye like me te waken her?"

"I, ah, well, it seems that, ah... I mean, I _should_ really speak to her, to make it all official..."

"Aye, o' course," Bree said pleasantly. "I mean, ye'd not be doin' yer job if ye just accepted our say so, would ye?"

"Qu... quite..." the man agreed, hesitantly. He gulped, and Bree nodded over to Viconia. The drow swaggered over to the bed, sitting herself down delicately on the edge, and reached out to shake Nalia's shoulder, bending down to whisper in the girl's ear words that Bree couldn't make out.

Nalia opened her eyes slowly, blinking several times as she looked around in a daze. Bree smirked and sauntered over.

"How are ye feeling Miss De'Arnise?"

"I'm... I'm tired..." Nalia whispered. "So tired..."

"That's understandable," Bree said sympathetically. "This nice young man has come all the way from the city to see ye, though. Can ye manage to stay awake fer a while te speak te him?"

The girl's eyes narrowed as she peered at the clerk. He hastily moved closer, offering a weak smile. "Good day to you, Lady De'Arnise," he said, holding his hand out initially, before deciding against the action and retracting it to his side. "I'm here to check that everything is currently well with you, and that you are... that is, that you are truly allowing Miss... er, Miss...?"

"Miss Strongfoot," Bree provided.

"Yes, Miss Strongfoot, here, to take Stewardship for your lands in the light of your father's recent tragic death." Wilbur paused, looking expectantly at Nalia.

The noblewoman barely seemed to notice him as tears welled up in her eyes. "Daddy... he's... he's dead, isn't he? His corpse... his body... We need to arrange for a fu-"

"She gets confused," Bree said loudly, interrupting the girl. "Wakes in the middle o' the night and wonders where everyone is. Breaks me heart every time I need te explain it all te her."

The young man paused hesitantly, his eyes darting to Bree momentarily, before fixing themselves back on Nalia's prone form. "I... I see," he said. "A terrible th-thing, to be sure. Has... I mean, I don't d-doubt you've already tried, but... some of the p-priests in the city can do-"

"Viconia's highly favoured by her Goddess," Bree interrupted, smirking as the man looked at the drow with barely concealed fear. "She's tried everythin' she knows, and none o' it helps. We doubt there's much else that could be tried, but we'll be sure te make some enquiries."

Wilbur nodded slowly, then swallowed hard once again and pulled a sheaf of papers from his case with a trembling hand. "In that case... if the Lady De'Arnise is able, I j-just need one signature... here..." He moved forward, putting a formal looking document before the girl and offering her a quill. Bree glared over to Viconia, and the drow glared back darkly before lowering her eyes to the contract. After a few moments she looked back up to Bree and shrugged lazily.

"Will this... protect me? Protect my... my home?" Nalia whispered.

The clerk looked perplexed; but one look over to Korgan had him nodding encouragingly to the noblewoman. She smiled weakly back at him and loosely scribbled her name across the page, then allowed Viconia to remove her signet ring to stamp the seal on the agreement. Bree beamed widely.

"You d-do, of course, understand that I _had_ to c-come and make it official," the man said nervously, watching as Viconia seductively poured the melted wax onto the rolled paper, licking her lips as she eyed the man's form. "It's j-just that we'd had s-some complaints about the activities here, and some p-people seemed to have the wrong end of the s-stick, assuming you were f-forcibly t-taking over and throwing the Guard out!"

Bree laughed politely, then gave Viconia a dark glare. _Hurry up!_ it said.

The drow rolled her eyes, wiggling her hips as she moved to the clerk and placed the agreement into his hands. Bree quickly signalled for Korgan.

"This be the way, now," the dwarf growled, grabbing the clerk's arm and dragging him towards the door. "Wouldn't be wantin' ye te be travellin' back te the city in the dark. Who knows _what_ might happen te ye!"

"G-goodbye Lady De'Arnise, M-miss Strongfoot," the man called, waving desperately as the dwarf manhandled him away. "I'm s-sure this w-will be enough to s-stop the rumours..."

Bree tapped her foot as the man's voice faded away, then levelled a questioning look at Viconia. "The agreement -- it was all in our favour, aye?"

The drow stretched like a cat, smirking as Bree glared at her impatiently. "It was as you'd expected, _abbil_. It named you as the rightful Steward of the lands, only removable by one of the bloodline, and a legal heir if anything should happen to your ward."

Bree laughed, clapping her hands together and rubbing them in glee. She looked to Montaron, jerking her head over at Nalia. "Take her back te the tower. Viconia'll help ye."

The drow cursed loudly as Bree left the room, strolling down the passages of her own Keep. It hadn't been easy -- they'd wasted precious gold bribing the right people to ensure they got someone as useless at Wilbur to examine the new leadership, and the locals would continue to protest about the taxes they now faced, naturally. But Bree didn't care -- she'd not be able to hang onto the place forever, she knew that. But she'd make the most of it while it was hers, and Nalia could go mad in the tower in the meantime.

She returned to the hall, settling down beside Edwin as he neatly scribed some arcane lore. He stopped almost immediately, looking pained at her presence but carefully avoiding any eye contact. She grinned towards him.

"So, tell me," she said. "What exactly does yer wee potion do to our noble friend?"

He put his quill down and leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face and an air of arrogance surrounding him as usual. One forefinger and thumb idly caressed his own bearded chin. "Exactly as you requested," he said. "Her short term memory is..._questionable_, to say the least. She will have no recollection of our actions since we found her father's body, but will remember anything that can leave a strong impression on her mind, like the news of her aunt's death. She'll also experience mild hysteria, random bouts of fear and will not be able to separate the anxiety that will be underlying within her from the reality of how she is being caged by us except when we need to parade her before visitors to pretend she wants us to be here. Oh, and she should _sleep_ at night, now. (At least, she'd _better_...)."

Bree nodded thoughtfully. "Anxiety, eh? That's a good addition..."

Edwin smiled with satisfaction. "Of course..." he said, pausing as the serving girl appeared at the doorway, clad only in a simple robe. A gleam appeared in his eye, and he stood up. "Do excuse me from your _riveting_ company," he muttered, "but I believe it is bathing time; and Edwin Odesseiron is _never_ late for these occasions."


End file.
